


Admission

by the_painless_moustache



Series: Nameless [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Also not as much sex as 1 and 2, Greg's only there for a moment, I SHALL MAKE IT UP TO YOU I PROMISE, M/M, Oral Sex, bottom!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had John. He could do whatever he liked with him.<br/>***<br/>Part of a series. Really should read at least the 2nd part</p>
            </blockquote>





	Admission

**Author's Note:**

> WHOA OKAY So I was lacking the use of one hand so it was kind of a bitch finishing this. BUT I FINALLY DID IT.  
> Any typos, let me know :)

 “Hello, Doc.” Greg greets kindly. John smirks, but his stomach’s in knots. “Wasn’t expecting to see you.”

 “Evaluation on 221 came out inconclusive.” John explains.

 “Doesn’t surprise me. He’s a nutter.” Greg sighs. “Gonna try again?”

 “Not much of a choice. Has to be done.”

 Greg nods and pushes a series of keys to open the door.

 John has been in this ward hundreds of times to evaluate hundreds of prisoners. He has _never_ been this nervous before. If Greg notices, he doesn’t say anything. They come to the door, neatly labeled _221_. John swallows thickly. He shouldn’t be nervous. He _shouldn’t_. He could keep his head, he knew what to expect this time.

 Greg swipes his key and the door slides open. He goes in first, turning on the light. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. You’ve got a visitor.”

 John enters carefully. Sherlock raises an eyebrow at him. It seems he was already awake. He’s sitting against the wall of his bed, an old puzzle ball in his hands. “Doctor,” he greets. He sounds surprised but he doesn’t look it. “Not a deep enough analysis last time?”

 John keeps a straight face, but he can’t stop the blush. “Leave us, Lieutenant.” he orders. Sherlock’s other eyebrow shoots up and a smirk comes across his face. Greg ignores the exchange and leaves. The hiss and click of the door closing is very final. John clears his throat and takes a seat on a bench attached to the wall across from Sherlock. “I didn’t finish your evaluation.” he says flatly.

 “You could’ve sent someone else.” When John doesn’t say anything, Sherlock smiles sadistically. “Were you jealous, Doctor? Jealous of the thought I’d find someone else to fuck?”

 John only stares at him, looking far more gallant than he feels.

 Sherlock’s smile widens and he drops the puzzle onto his bed. “You came to play.” he rumbles as he stands. John watches him stalk forward with as straight a face as he can manage. Sherlock stops directly in front of him, head turned slightly to the side. He studies him for a moment before his hand shoots out and locks into John’s hair. He only has time to wince before Sherlock’s in his face. “You may act brave, John Watson, but I know you. I know you down to your very _atoms_.”

 And strangely enough, John believes him. He believes that Sherlock can somehow see through him. John opens his mouth to tell him just that when Sherlock drops one knee between his legs, pressing dangerously close to his groin. He leans down and brushes his nose over John’s neck.

 John moves back and keeps their eyes locked. “I’m not an idiot.” he states. “Don’t think I came here for any other reason than I _want_ to be.”

 Sherlock’s fingers rake down to his neck, grabbing firmly but not tightly and pulling him into a kiss. Sherlock’s other hand presses between his legs and squeezes. Even when John grabs at him to pull him closer, all he can think is how _not good_ this all is. Sherlock—or Khan, or Harrison, or whoever the hell he was—was a criminal. He was the definition of bad news. Yet John’s sucking on his tongue like a teenage girl, and he can’t detect a single trace of regret.

 Sherlock breaks the kiss and runs the hand on John’s neck through his hair. “Mmm, good. My good John.”

 John leans up and brushes their lips together. “You don’t scare me.” he growls.

 Sherlock grins. “I know. You should be terrified. I’m a psychopathic criminal who seems to have developed an obsession with you. But you like danger, don’t you? You like the way it feels to play with fire. Let me assure you,” A brief flash of teeth against his lower lip. “my dear Doctor, that I am as dangerous as it gets.”

 Sherlock’s words hit John straight in the stomach. He licks his lips—god, he could taste Sherlock on them—and stares. “I can’t get away from you, can I?”

 “No,” Sherlock answers, bending closer. John can only focus on tiny details of his face at this proximity. He chooses to watch his mouth. “But do you really want to?”

 John doesn’t answer because they both already know. Instead, he lets Sherlock kiss him again. Sherlock pulls him onto the floor and pins John on his back. Bending down to swallow a whimper, Sherlock leisurely runs his tongue through John’s mouth. He was obviously unconcerned with keeping John held down. He had John. He could do whatever he liked with him. It was simply a show of power, and John submits to it freely.

 Sherlock takes things slow. John feels like he’s about to combust, but Sherlock won’t let him. Every time John tries to move a little faster, tries to kiss a little longer, he’s left wanting. He must feel the realization, because Sherlock laughs. The sound is low enough John can feel it vibrate through him. He shivers and turns his head to the side. Sherlock takes the surrender quickly, biting into John’s neck. He knows the mark left will be visible for everyone, and he knows that’s _exactly_ what Sherlock wants.

 “Look at you.” Sherlock chuckles. “God, if I told you to bend over and let me fuck you over the guard’s desk, you’d do it in a heartbeat. You’re so _good_ for me.”

 “Sherlock,” John moans. He feels pathetic, but _god_ does John want him. He wants him hard and fast on the floor, or slow and sweet on the bed, or rough and dirty against the wall. He doesn’t care anymore, he just _wants_. But Sherlock won’t give him any of it.

 “Would you let me tie you up, John?” he murmurs, unfazed by John’s wriggling. “Spread you open and put you in ropes to keep you that way? Keep you all to myself. I bet I could stuff you with any toy I’d like. I bet I could share you, if I wanted. You’d be so good for me, John. So accepting and loyal. So beautiful.” Sherlock whispers the last word, bending to kiss just under John’s ear. He arches, but Sherlock moves with him, keeping them thoroughly separated. John’s never felt more frustrated.

 “I’ve imagined you, John. On your knees, spread and waiting. Your cock dripping because you just _want so badly_ to be fucked. That’s how I want you. Maybe I’ll blindfold you sometime, with your hands trussed up behind your back. You’d look so gorgeous like that.”

 “ _Sherlock, please._ ” he groans, struggling. Sherlock growls when John brushes their erections together. He releases him, and John willfully ignores his own whimper and instead focuses on trying to get Sherlock back on top of him immediately. He scrambles up onto his knees to reach for Sherlock, who steps in front of him. With his face just above waist high, John knows exactly what he wants.

 John’s hands don’t shake as he pulls at Sherlock’s trousers, or when he palms his cock through the black underwear. He’s too busy watching the criminal’s face change from reserved to utterly mad with need. Fingers find grip in his hair and he allows his face to be pulled closer. He takes the initiative and runs his tongue along the fabric-covered length. Sherlock’s fingers tighten and he murmurs something, but John doesn’t hear what.

 He’s suddenly eager to watch him fall apart, so he slips Sherlock’s pants down and takes him wholly into his mouth. Sherlock pulls out some of his hair and makes the most fantastic noise. It’s somewhere between a choke and a growl, and John wants to hear it again, so he pulls back and takes him back into his throat once more.

 “Oh, _fuck_. I knew you’d be good at this.” Sherlock pants above him. “So eager to please, so willing. _God_ , would you let me fuck your throat? I bet you would. Go ahead, relax. Let me fuck those pretty lips of yours.”

 John takes one more pull for his own pleasure, savoring the salty taste of skin and the dusky color of Sherlock’s eyes. Then he drops his jaw and Sherlock’s thrusting his hips forward into his mouth. He can feel the soft slap of balls against his chin, and gets a deep sense of pride knowing he can do this for Sherlock. He can give this to him. He reaches up and digs his nails into Sherlock’s thighs, spreading them slightly open. It drives Sherlock deeper into his mouth and John gags hard, forcing Sherlock back out of his throat so he can breathe. “Too eager for your own good.” Sherlock chuckles breathlessly, fingers releasing their grip and carding through John’s hair almost tenderly.

 John realizes vaguely he should be ashamed. He was submitting himself sexually—for the _second time_ —to a psychopath. But Sherlock’s looks so pleased with him. He turns his cheek into Sherlock’s hand and closes his eyes to try and forget everything but the warm press of Sherlock’s palm. Sherlock doesn’t wait for him to get himself in order, and instead John finds himself back on the floor. Sherlock spends long minutes just kissing him, lips slowly pulling any remaining trepidation out of him. John whimpers and gives a nearly violent shudder before completely going limp.

 Sherlock chuckles into his mouth, causing his teeth to catch John’s lower lip. “There we are.” He turns and nuzzles John’s neck. “Can I have you, John?”

 John thinks that it’s the most idiotic thing he’s ever been asked. Sherlock already _had_ him. He was already consumed by the madman. Then it hits him. Sherlock’s not asking to be polite. He’s not asking for permission. He wants John admit he’s owned. To force John to accept being his.

 John swallows and waits for a sign of impatience, but Sherlock knows how to wait. He was in prison for God’s sake. John pulls him down and kisses him without giving an answer. Sherlock lets him, but hardly contributes. Still, it gives John a chance to explore him in a way he hadn’t yet, fitting them together so there’s no awkward nose bumps or teeth clashes. Just a touch of stubble against him and the smooth slide of tongues. John’s overcome with an urge to do this with every part of them. To find the perfect positioning of legs and arms so that he’s surrounding and surrounded by the dark haired criminal. The need grows stronger until it’s practically consuming him. He pulls back and mumbles. “Yes. Yes, I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> *dun dun duuun*  
> So there's going to be one more part, a wrap up part, that will have glorious smut I swear. Then the series is complete :)
> 
> ...OR IS IT?...


End file.
